The Blue Door
by dreamsofhim
Summary: What's behind the blue door? That was the question Grissom concetrated on when he meditated. Sara has an answer. GSR, established relationship.


**Summary:** What's behind the blue door? That was the question Grissom concetrated on when he meditated. Sara has an answer.

**Disclaimer:** Nope, not mine. No silver has crossed my palm, either.

**A/N:** Special thanks to **phdelicious** for her beta servcies. Written for the **BestKeptPrivate** fic challenge. Prompt: blue paint.

* * *

It was a simple picture postcard: a battered blue door in a stone wall. 

Sara noticed it the first time they were together. Grissom had it propped against the lamp beside his bed. In the darkened room, the soft spotlight effect made it glow; it reminded her of his eyes.

When he came back to bed she wasn't thinking about postcards, but of the shy and passionate man who had just taken her in his arms. In a very few minutes she wasn't capable of coherent thought at all.

xxx

The next time she noticed the postcard it was taped to the mirror in his bathroom. It was the week Brass had been shot. In fact, it was the same week Gil asked her to move in with him. Since she hadn't been home except for brief stops to pick up changes of clothing for a month or more, it seemed like a natural progression to them both.

It caught her attention while she was unpacking a box from her bathroom. There was something mesmerizing about the image...as if she could almost open that door and walk through it...which made her wonder what might be on the other side. Grissom walked into the bathroom and watched her for a long time before she noticed him there.

"It's oddly compelling, isn't it," he asked, leaning against the door jamb.

"Is it from Greece?" she asked.

"Santorini," he said wistfully.

She turned to lean against the sink. "When were you there?"

He straightened and approached her, resting his hands on her hips and nuzzling her neck, "Oh, I've never been. I just have the postcard..."

Somehow the conversation lost its focus at that point and the picture was gone the next day.

xxx

Sara forgot about it until she saw it resting on a welter of papers at his desk. She'd just dropped off a report and there it was, glowing in the dim light. Curious, she picked it up and flipped it over. Blank. She inspected it again: a perfectly ordinary postcard. What was the significance of this thing? She was busy and didn't have time to think about it, but she made a mental note to ask Grissom about it later.

When shift was over they went out to breakfast at Frank's Cafe.

"Why do we always come here?" she asked, cleaning her silver with a napkin.

Grissom, who'd been measuring sugar for his coffee, looked over his glasses at her. "Habit, probably...do you want to leave?"

"No," she chuckled, "It's just that everybody always comes here and it's really kind of crummy."

Looking around, seeing the place with new eyes, he laughed, "You're right. Let's try to find another place."

The waitress brought their orders and they ate in companionable silence. The image of Grissom's postcard popped into her head, reminding her to ask him about it.

"Griss?"

"Hmmm?"

"What's the significance of the blue door?"

He looked up from cutting his food, puzzled. "The blue door?"

"Your postcard? Santorini?"

He set down his knife and fork, "Oh, that..."

"I've seen it in several places around the house...I noticed it tonight on your desk. What does it mean?" she asked.

Grissom took a sip of coffee. "Sometimes I need to clear my head. I'll have so many thoughts chasing one another through my mind that I can't focus effectively. So I meditate...but I've found that I can't do it without some visual stimulus. That blue door is what I rest my eyes on...I think about what's behind it...peace and quiet...safety, sometimes. If I do that for 10 or 15 minutes, my thoughts are less chaotic and I can concentrate again, even if I'm very tired."

"Interesting..."

"It's an exercise in fantasy, really. One day I want to go to Greece and find that door...find out what's on the other side..." he grinned, "I'm sure whatever it is won't live up to my dreams, but I want to do it anyway."

xxx

In the months after they moved in together, Sara saw the postcard once or twice, usually when Grissom was wrestling with a tough case or working too hard. Every time it appeared she wondered if there was some way she could make the dream come true.

There was no way to surprise him with a trip to Greece; time and expense being two major obstacles. Still, she was convinced there was something she could do.

Oddly, she was taking care of herself when she stumbled on the answer. WLVU offered a number of forensic continuing education courses; Sara was paging through the catalog when a page from the art department course listing caught her eye. Flipping to the faculty section, she copied down a name and a phone number.

xxx

A few trips to Home Depot and WLVU later, Sara was ready. She picked a day when she was off and Grissom was due in court; plenty of time to get everything set up. When the workman left, she got out Gil's little postcard from its current home in his desk drawer. Holding it up next to her gift, she decided Professor Anderson had done an incredible job.

Soft chimes, her phone's alarm, let her know she had to hurry. Grissom was due out of court in an hour.

xxx

Sara watched Grissom exit Courtroom A at the Justice Center and walk down the corridor in her direction. He was tired; it showed in his carriage and gait.

"Hey," she said from her spot by the wall.

Startled, he looked up and smiled, "What are you doing here?"

"I missed you, so I came down to give you a ride home," she said, putting her arm through his. "How was court?"

"Long," he said, "How was your day off?"

She grinned with pleasure at her secret. "I don't know yet," she said briefly meeting his eyes then looking at the floor barely suppressing a giggle.

Quirking an eyebrow, he gazed at her – happy and pleased with herself. Her energy was revitalizing. He covered her hand where it rested on his forearm. "I'm glad you came."

xxx

An accident of urban planning conspired to keep Sara's surprise until the very last moment. Grissom's white adobe townhouse, an end unit, was situated perpendicular to its neighbors. The parking lot ended at the back edge of the house, necessitating they walk around the side in order to reach the front. Sara had always found this inconvenient – more so when she had her arms full of grocery bags – but not today.

"What are you so tickled about?" he said as they got out of the car.

Eyes merry, grin deepening, she laughed and started to back up the walk in front of him. "I have a surprise for you."

"I gathered that...what is it?"

"That would ruin the surprise," she said, deliberately provocative.

Her glee was infectious. Quickening his pace, he made a half hearted grab for her, but she slipped away. "Tell me!" he laughed.

Twirling in front of him, she chuckled, "You'll find out soon enough."

She finally allowed him to catch her just as they rounded the edge of the house. He was kissing her cheek when she pulled away and gestured toward the front of the house. "Surprise."

Grissom glanced in the direction she was pointing. He was already looking back at her when what he had seen registered in his mind. Turning slowly, he looked at the front of his house. He could not believe his eyes.

The door. The _blue_ door. _His_ blue door. The angle of the afternoon sun caught the entryway just right. The blue paint seemed to glow...just like his postcard did in similar light.

"How did you…this isn't the actual door?" he started.

"Oh no, this is a painting of the door," she said.

Grissom's expression told her he didn't understand. "This is what is called a _trompe l'oeil_ painting...I made a copy of your postcard and had someone from WLVU's art department, Professor Anderson, copy it exactly on a blank door I got from Home Depot," she explained.

Slowly approaching it, he ran his hands over the door. It was completely smooth, though it looked as rough and as battered at the old door in the picture. "This is amazing," he said softly.

"Isn't it? It really fools the eye."

After examining it for a few more minutes he turned to her, eyes questioning. "Why?"

Pulling out a new set of keys and placing them in his hand, Sara said, "I wanted to give you an answer to your question...'what's behind the door?'...and I couldn't take you to Greece, so this was the next best thing. You told me meditating on your postcard was an exercise in fantasy...well, knowing what was behind this particular door was my dream for a long time. I got mine, so I thought you should have yours...until you can go to Greece and find your door to see what's really on the other side."

Grissom put his arms around her, pulling her close. "This is the most wonderful gift anyone has ever given me, Sara. Thank you," he said, not quite knowing what else to say.

She leaned into him, "You like it?" she asked.

Fitting the key into the lock, he turned the key and turned the doorknob. "Very much...shall we go in?"

Chuckling, she said, "Wonder what we'll find inside?"

"Let's go see," he said.

FIN

_**Author's note: **_

_When I was in art school, one of the requirements was to produce a piece of trompe l'oeil art. It was a fascinating process. When I was thinking about this story, I remembered the pairs of images published in the catalog every year: a photo of what the student was copying and a picture of the final piece of art. You couldn't tell them apart._


End file.
